


Kindred Moons

by A Melon Most Bitter (Darwise)



Category: HEARTBEAT (Video Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, Family Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darwise/pseuds/A%20Melon%20Most%20Bitter
Summary: A mother and her daughter have a heart-to-heart by a bonfire.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Kindred Moons

Nearly six hours since the beginning of their outing together, Han realizes that she has absolutely no clue how to speak with her daughter.

While Kon certainly had no issue with accompanying her to Sporegano, she seemed more interested in flitting about the town and conversing with the locals than with her. Rather than insist on anything, Han goes along with it.

Kon quickly falls in with a group of Mogwai lounging on the beach. They offer her a drink and a seat by their bonfire, and laughter is on the wind shortly after. All the while, Han busies herself by wandering the coastline, staying far enough to keep from eavesdropping, but close enough that she can keep an eye on them at all times.

It becomes quite apparent to her that Kon is far more comfortable talking with others than she was at that age. It bothers Han at first, but after spending the afternoon watching Kon laugh and jest with the group as though they’ve all been friends their entire lives, a sense of pride swells in Han’s chest, though she isn’t quite sure why.

Something cool and wet brushes against Han calves; the ocean waves have thoroughly soaked the bottom of her dress. She takes several steps forward, leaning back in the water until the tide begins to carry her. The sky is a mesmerizing combination of dusky hues, and it won’t be long before nightfall.

Han looks at a cloud formation passing overhead. If she tilts her head just so, it almost looks like a water buffalo. The thought brings a slight smile to her lips, and she raises a hand toward the sky, acting on a long forgotten sense of muscle memory.

Her fingers dance in the air, and she can feel the magic building up within her core. For a moment, she almost thinks that _this might work._

Han releases the magic, but the clouds do not move.

Her hand goes limp, and splashes against the water’s surface.

For all of the slights (both real and imagined) made against her, the absence of that which was so cruelly stolen from her remains the deepest wound. Try as she might, her true power, her responsibility, her birthright, is no more.

Feats as awe-inspiring as creating a mountain range where barren fields once stood, to something as childish and innocent as making animal shapes in the sky with clouds.

Gone. The joy of creation is forever lost to Han.

Her quivering sigh is long, and deeply mournful. She drifts with the tide for a while longer, then returns to the beach once the sun has set. The Mogwai that were gathered around the fire have long since gone home.

Kon is still in her beach chair, staring at the sky when Han takes a seat on the sand next to her.

For the sake of conversation, she pushes her own melancholy aside.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“...Yeah, I did.” Kon says quietly. “I’ve been here once with Eve, but didn’t really get the chance to take it all in.”

“The people here… they’re really nice.” she adds.

“They are, aren’t they? The Mogwai that originally settled in Sporegano were a very peaceful sort; and I’m glad to see those sensibilities haven’t changed.”

“Uh huh...” Kon trails off.

Another long stretch of silence looms, though this one feels considerably more tense.

“...Han?”

Han flinches. The fact that she won’t refer to her as ‘Mother’ isn’t lost on her. It’s completely reasonable, but it doesn’t stop her from taking it personally.

“...Yes, Kon?”  
  
“Why did you bring me here?”

Han answers honestly.

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

Kon tilts her head to look down at Han.

“...Is that right?” She asks warily. “You’ve barely said a thing to me since we got here, and you completely ghosted me for most of the day.”

“...Ghosted?”

Kon rolls her eyes as she lets out an irritated groan. “Disappeared. Vanished. _Not. Here._ ”

For a moment, Han considers calling Kon out on her own avoidant behavior, but thinks better of it.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Han says defensively. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Kon opens her mouth, then quickly clenches her teeth shut to keep from shouting. She makes a long, drawn out hiss, like a rapidly deflating balloon.

It takes another minute before she’s calm enough to speak again.

“What’s the point of us going somewhere together if you won’t hang out with me? What were you even doing all day?”

“...Thinking, mostly.”

The answer feels so far removed from their current conversation that Kon takes a second to absorb the words.

“It’s been more than two centuries since the last time I got to see a sunset with my own two eyes. I thought I’d watch it for a while, and I let the time get away from me.”

“...Oh.”

The admission strikes Kon as profoundly sad, and her pent-up frustrations are temporarily set aside.

“...That sucks.”

“Mm.”

They settle into silence, watching the last rays of dusk fade from sight as countless stars begin to reveal themselves in the sky.

Without a word, Kon gets up from her chair, and settles onto the sand next to Han.

“One of the Iwazaru asked me to give this to you; she said it was a “welcome back” gift.”

She hands her a small bottle made of brown glass. At the top is a small cork stopper that juts out from the lip.

“...Well, I’ll be!”

Han let’s out a mirthful chuckle as she turns the bottle over in her hand. There’s no label on the front, but she doesn’t need one to know exactly what this is.

“What is it?”

“It’s a local punch.” She pulls the cork out, then hands Kon the bottle. “Here, try some.”

She gives Han a skeptical look, but takes a small sip all the same. Instantly, her expression brightens.

“Oh wow!” She smacks her lips, then takes another pull. “That’s really good!”

“Don’t just gulp it down, _savor it._ The fruits used to make this no longer exist, so you likely won’t taste anything this heavenly again for many years.”

She takes the bottle back from Kon, then helps herself to a taste, sighing blissfully as the sweet liquid hits her tongue. She re-plugs the bottle, and sets it on the sand between them.

“Really? Can’t you just,” Kon waves a hand in front of her face. “I dunno… _make_ more fruit trees?”

Han offers her a pained smile.

“It would be nice if it were that simple.”

Kon winces apologetically.

“Oh. Uh… sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m not offended.”

Kon nods, but doesn’t say anything, letting the thread of conversation die off again.

Unwilling to let it be, Han takes the reins this time.

“What was your childhood like, Kon?”

“ _...Excuse me?_ ”

The uncomfortable look on her face is indication enough of where this line of conversation is headed, but Han is tired of dancing around the sensitive topics as if they don’t exist.

“What was it like growing up?” She reiterates. “I’ve missed out on quite a bit, I imagine.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”

The bitterness in her tone is well deserved, and Han makes no attempt to dispute it. Kon leans back against the sand, and turns her gaze up toward the stars.

“...It must have been very difficult for you.”

Kon shrugs.

“...I mean, Mog growing up in a city full of hunters; _of course_ it was hard, Han.”

“What about your Conjurer?”

“What _about_ Rain?”

“...You two are close, aren’t you?”

“She’s my family… but even she couldn’t be around me all of the time.”

Kon sighs, and Han uses the short silence to readjust herself so that she’s lying on the sand next to her.

“I see.”

“No, you _**don’t**_.”

She glowers at Han.

“I grew up being told constantly by everyone around me that I was nothing but a tool to be used and disposed of if I ever overstayed my welcome. I can sugarcoat it, or act like it doesn’t bother me, but at the end of the day, that was my childhood. And then there’s _you._ ”

“...Meaning what, exactly?”

Kon’s expression becomes guarded, as if she doesn’t know how to answer.

“...I don’t know what to think of you. Years of not knowing anything about my past, then learning I’m the Queen’s daughter, and… all of that other stuff. You’re a stranger to me, Han. And I can’t just forget that you were more than willing to _kill_ me and the rest of the world less than a year ago.”

Her next words stab at Han like a knife though the core.

“...How do I know that you’re not going to just walk out of my life the moment I become too inconvenient for you to deal with?”

“Kon…”

The shame is more than Han can take, and she turns away from Kon. She covers her face with a sleeve, unwilling to let her daughter see her weeping a second time.

“...I’m sorry.” She whispers. “I am truly sorry.”

“...I know you are.”

As Han wipes away her tears, she looks back towards the night sky. With no light pollution to obscure them, the stars and constellations are out in full force, and while the view alone isn’t nearly enough to soothe her nerves, it does provide another avenue for conversation.

“Kon… would you give me your hand, please?”

“...What?”

“I just want to show you something.”

“...What do you need my hand for though?”

“ ** _Please._** ”

Her tone is frail, needy, and completely unbecoming of her status, but Han is long past caring about such things. Even if her daughter hates her deep down, she isn’t going to give up without trying everything that she can.

A wave of relief washes over her as Kon scoots closer, and slips a hand over her own. Slowly, Han claps it, raises it up, and points towards a specific spot in the sky.

“Do you see the space where our fingers are pointing?”

“...Yeah?”

“I want you to focus your eyesight as best as you can on that spot.”

She moves her finger slightly, and immediately, Kon’s eyes are drawn towards a large dot that shines far brighter than the others near it.

“Do you see that big teal dot?”

“Yeah… It’s kinda hard not to.”

“That, is a moon called Levitarin” Han pauses for moment. “Levi for short. And this...”

Using another finger, she draws a short line that stops at a small greenish speck.

“Is Lunavesus, otherwise known as Luna. Are you familiar with either one of these celestial bodies?”

Kon shrugs.

“No, and I really don’t see what this has to do with anything right now.”

“Watch the space between them very closely.”

A minute passes, and at first, Kon can’t tell the difference.

By the second minute mark, she’s completely lost interest.

By the third, she’s just about ready to stop trying altogether.

But then she notices it.

“...Wait a minute. Did they just-” Kon says half-unbelieving. “...Did they move **_closer_ **to each other?!”

Han smiles ever so slightly.

“ _Keep watching._ ”

They watch as the two moons slowly move into each other’s paths. For a moment, Kon is certain that they’re going to crash into each other, but just as their proximity grows too close, the two slowly begin moving away in opposite directions.

The spectacle ends, and Han lets go of Kon’s hand.

“ _...What did I just see?_ Are planets even _supposed_ to do that?” Kon’s voice is a mix of incredulity and curiosity, and it makes Han’s smile all the more brighter.

“Not planets, Kon. _Moons._ ” Han corrects. “The orbital cycle of those two is very unique. In most astronomy books, I imagine you might see them designated as “The Passing Lovers.” There used to be a time where it wasn’t uncommon for Mogwai to name their children Levi or Luna in hopes that they would be drawn to their soulmate.”

“Wow. All of that from a couple of planets, how romantic!”

“ _Moons_ , Kon. But as nice as that all is, I’ve always been a fan of the Sporegano naming convention. Here, they refer to them as the Kindred Moons. In the local folklore, they symbolize the enduring bonds between loved ones separated by circumstance. It’s not limited to lovers, mind you. It can mean anything from best friends…”

Han turns back Kon, and places a hand on her shoulder.

“To family.”

Kon gasps softly, but Han raises a hand up before she can say anything.

“It pains me to say it, but you have _every_ right to be skeptical of me. I’ve done very little to earn your faith, as a person… and as a parent. Do you know why I’m so hesitant to speak with you? It’s because I’m terrified that I might say or do something _wrong_ , and drive you away like I did with your father.”

“Han, I-”

“ _ **No.**_ ” Han shakes her head violently. “I won’t deny it. There is nothing I can say that will ever make up for the hardships I’ve caused you, direct or otherwise. But that doesn’t mean we can’t move past it. I can’t force you to do anything, but I want you to know that I truly wish to be a part of your life. _Do you understand?_ ”

Kon’s lip starts to quiver, and her eyes grow wet, but she stays silent.

Han leans in close, her voice thick with emotion.

“I will never stop chipping away at this distance between us. You are my daughter, Kon... and I won’t **_ever_ **abandon you again.”

Kon leans against Han, taking deep, and steady breaths as she cries silently onto her shoulder. She gently rocks from side to side, stroking her daughter’s hair all the while.

By the time they separate, the bonfire has died out, and the only light left for miles around are that of the stars. Both are content to lay against the other, and gaze at the stars in contemplative silence.

Kon is first of the two to find her voice again.

“...So. I’ve, uh-” She inhales sharply. “I’ve got a lot of questions. About you, about my dad… about a lot of things, actually.”

“...And I’d be happy to answer them. Hold on a moment.”

Han props herself up on her arms, and reaches for the punch still nestled between them. She opens it, and takes a long swig before offering it to Kon.

“I thought you said to savor that.” Kon says dryly.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

Kon takes a swig, whining slightly upon realizing that the bottle is empty.

“Seriously? That went way too fast.”

“Be glad that you at least got to experience it in the first place. Now, about your questions…”

Kon’s face shift into a bashful expression.

“So… you and my dad. How _did_ you two meet anyway?”

Han snorts at the memory her question brings forward.

“Oh, I guarantee you that story does _not_ go the way you’re probably imagining it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I want to hear it even more!”

“I never said I _wouldn’t_ tell you, now be quiet, and listen…”

The hours blur together as they talk late into the night, and even later into the morning.

Some of the memories they share are fond ones; others, painful.

Their tempers flare up numerous times, but they power through it, and by the end of their time together, the wedge of distance between them has grown just a little smaller.

It isn’t perfect, but it’s a start; which is more than either could have hoped for.


End file.
